


Through You

by katikat



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-27 23:41:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14436690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katikat/pseuds/katikat
Summary: An Afghanistan story. Mac’s ambushed. Jack saves his life. By putting him in the hospital. Jack’s POV. (Unbeta'd)





	Through You

**Author's Note:**

> I'm no soldier, so... just hand-wave all inaccuracies and pretend it's abstract art.

Three of the terrorists are dead - a bullet to the head, Jack never misses - and their blood’s soaking into Afghanistan’s dusty, sunbaked ground. But the fourth one, the fourth guy managed to grab Mac, and with a knife pressed tight against the kid’s throat, he’s now dragging him back down the street, towards the brown bunker-like house at the end. If he gets Mac inside, they’ll never get him back out alive.

Jack stares through his scope intently, trying to find a way to put the bastard down, but there’s no way he can do it without hitting Mac. The guy knows now where Jack’s hunkered down, in what window, and he’s crouching low behind Mac, making a smaller target of himself. Jack’s running out of options and the open doorway of the terrorist hideout is looming closer and closer.

Squeezing his eyes shut hard for a second, he takes a deep breath - and he makes a decision.

“Mac, I don’t have a clean shot,” Jack whispers into his comm, knowing that Mac can hear him; everything happened so fast that Mac’s radio’s still on, the terrorists didn’t get rid of it yet. “I can only get him… if I go  _through_ you.”

He sees Mac’s eyes widen for a moment; they look impossibly blue in his pale face. The kid knows very well what that means. His shocked reaction lasts only a moment, though, then a determined expression settles on his face - he knows very well that if there were any other way, Jack would not be suggesting this - and staring up straight at Jack, he nods almost imperceptibly.

And Jack follows through. He doesn’t think about it - if he did, his hands would start shaking for sure - he simply aims… and  _fires_ , the shot cracking loud in the small room where he’s crouched. And a second later, both Mac and terrorists drop - and don’t get up again.

Packing his rifle fast, Jack scrambles to his feet and runs, out of the room and down the stairs, shouting into this radio, “Snakebite Zero Three, this is Snakebite One One. My EOD tech’s down, I repeat, he’s down. We need an emergency evac on our last coordinates,  _now_ , over!”

The radio crackles as Jack barges out onto the street with his rifle slung on his back and his handgun out and leading, checking both ways. “Snakebite One One, this is Snakebite Zero Three. Understood. ETA, ten minutes, over.”

In that moment, two men rush out of the open doorway of the terrorist hideout with machine guns in their hands. Jack puts two bullets in both of them before they can do more than shout something. “Understood, 03. Be advised, we’ll be coming in hot!”

“Acknowledged.”

Then Jack’s running down the street and sliding to a stop next to Mac who’s curled up on his side, groaning and holding his bleeding shoulder. Jack glances at the terrorist who held Mac hostage before - there’s a large blood stain on his chest, over his heart - and shoots him in the head, just to be sure. Better safe than sorry, he tells himself. His anger, no, his  _fury_ has nothing to do with it. Of course not.

“Mac?” Jack asks, gun aimed at the open doorway of the hideout. Who knows how many terrorists are still hiding in there. Jesus, what a  _mess_!

“Sor-sorry, Jack,” Mac stammers out, voice hoarse with pain. “I didn’t see them.”

Jack looks down. The bullet wound’s not life threatening, he made sure to aim high - if he gets the kid help soon, that is. Still, it’s bleeding a lot. Swallowing a curse, Jack sets his gun aside, and pulling out his first aid kit, he packs Mac’s shoulder - both the entry and the exit wounds - thick with gauze, doing his best to ignore Mac’s soft, pained noises.

“Yeah, I didn’t see them either and you know what  _that_ means,” Jack replies, tying off the bandage, as tight as he can, while giving Mac a pointed look.

Mac frowns. “An am-bush?” he croaks out.

Jack nods firmly. “Sure looks like it. These gun-totters decided to grab themselves an American soldier. The whole bomb scare was a ruse to get the locals out and Uncle Sam’s people in. You just were the lucky one, I guess.”

Barking out a pained laugh, Mac says, “Well, I  _was_. I had  _you_  with me.”

That makes Jack pause for a second. “And now you have a hole in your shoulder,” he points out, and grabbing his gun, he helps Mac to his feet.

Mac leans against him hard, still smiling a little, despite his blood soaked camo and unsteady steps. “Yeah, but I’m alive to complain about it. So, thanks.”

Jack looks at him again, a little startled, and starts pulling him back the other way now, away from the terrorist hideout; he can see movement in the darkness behind the open door, they need to get out of here this very moment. “Well, then you’re welcome, slick,” he says, hoisting Mac higher, supporting most of his weight. “Still, I wish it didn’t come to this.”

“Sometimes there’s no other way, Jack,” Mac replies softly, doing his best to keep his feet moving. “But look at the bright side.”

With an incredulous glance, Jack says, “This pile of horse shit has a bright sight? You getting delirious on me, kid?”

Around the corner they go and down another side street, towards their pick up point. In the distance, Jack can already hear the loud  _whoop-whoop-whoop_  of the helicopter. They’re almost out of here, only a few more minutes now.  _God, please!_

“Y-yeah,” Mac stammers. “With me… out, you’ll finally get your-your vacation.”

Jack snorts, looking over his shoulder; yup, they’re being followed. “When our CO finds out it was me who shot you, it’ll be latrine duty, my friend. I think I can kiss my vacation days goodbye till the end of my tour.”

Last corner and then nothing but a straight run to where their chopper’s setting down slowly, churning clouds of dust. Almost there,  _almost_.

Jack rams his gun back into the holster to prop Mac up better,  _higher_ , to move faster, and his heart clenches a little when he hears the kid cry out in pain and almost go limp. “No fainting on me, pretty boy, not now. Just a few more steps.”

And that’s when Jack hears it, the shouted order, “Down!” coming from the direction of the helicopter. He doesn’t hesitate. He grabs Mac tighter around the waist and then he just drops, covering the kid with his own body as bullets start flying directly overhead, their fellow soldiers in the chopper mowing down their pursuers in a loud salvo of shots.

When it’s over and the terrorists are down, Jack’s ears are ringing so loud he can barely hear and Mac’s out of it, the makeshift bandage’s soaked with blood. But Jack tries not to worry, he does his  _best_ not to worry, because Uncle Sam’s here now to take them back to the base and there they’ll take good care of Mac, he’ll be just fine. Everything will be just fine now. Reluctantly, he lets go when they pull Mac out of his arms…

And it is. It is okay. Though Jack does  _not_ go on vacation, as he suspected. And their CO rips him a new one. Oh well, you win some, you lose some.


End file.
